


Handy Drabblesack

by chaya



Series: Critical Role Drabbles [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-06-04 23:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: This bag can hold almost infinite drabbles, since they have almost no mass! How incredible!(This will be an ongoing repository for teensy drabbles that are too small to be their own posts. Probably should have made this a while ago.)





	1. Caleb Does Something Scary

bluandorange asked:  
Caleb does something that scares the shit out of Molly, and I mean that in a 'this man could kill us all and he might just Do It' kind of way

\--

“I’m going to let you go, now,” the bounty hunter says.

Molly uses some cunning and previous experience to work his gag down past his chin. “That would certainly be an interesting twist I’d be in favor of,” he remarks. He is extremely confused when the drow in black leather _actually begins untying Nott_ , offering a hand to help her down from the pile of bodies she’s on top of. He then begins to roll them off of the magical floating disc they’re all suspended on, one by one.

“Sorry,” the bounty hunter says, when he rolls Jester off of the pile and accidentally rolls her elbow into Fjord’s side.

“Mnn,” Fjord says through his gag, warily accepting the apology and trying to turn so he can see what’s going on.

“Do you mind if we kind of squirm apart and sit up? Is that cool with you?” Molly knows that somewhere at the bottom of the pile, Beau and Caleb are probably getting squished, and he at least cares about Caleb.

A couple beats, as if the bounty hunter’s on a delay. “Yes, that is fine, just do not leave the glowing circle or you will be injured. I will… get rid of it soon, please be patient.”

“No rush,” Nott mumbles, rubbing at her wrists and pulling her knife out of her boot when the drow doesn’t seem to notice her or mind. She cuts Molly free, then Yasha, and when Caleb and Beau are finally visible, Molly can see that Caleb’s eyes are glossed over and unfocused, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. “Caleb! Are you okay!? Did you start suffocating down there?”

“I am fine,” the bounty hunter says, and something clicks in Molly’s head. “Please be patient, I am having to … juggle a few things here.” The bounty hunter is looking around at the team, and then at the floating disc, and then the large glowing ring around all of them. A few moments pass, and then the disc is gone. The bounty hunter then stares at the circle, and after a moment it seems to melt into the floorboards, gone. “I am about to lose him. Please get ready.”

“What?” Jester asks.

“Get _ready_ ,” Molly clarifies, pulling his sword out. “Caleb can’t hold on to him indefinitely.”

“Correct,” the drow says, and something in his voice is different now, an odd strain, and then he is moving like an automaton to remove his enchanted daggers from his belt, his gorget from his neck, tapping his windpipe several times as he gets down to his knees. “Five seconds or so. He will begin moving of his own accord.”

There’s a silence as Molly, Fjord, and Yasha arrange themselves around him and wait. The drow’s fingers twitch on his knees, and then he’s rearing back, as if taking a breath he had held for far too long, face contorted in exhaustion and confusion just as Fjord swings his falchion low and strikes with enough force to nearly take his head off.

The body tips to the side, thudding dully. After a few moments, Jester pushes past Yasha and kicks it in the butt.

“You hurt my face,” she says bitterly, one hand covering the large violet bruise on her cheek. “And you stomped Caleb’s ribs. I saw you.”

“Caleb,” Nott says, and Molly is already over at his side, snapping in front of his face and pushing his hair from his eyes. The wizard takes in a rattling breath, flicking the cut ropes away from his wrists and ankles. He begins to push himself up, then stops, laying back down very carefully.

“I think something is cracked,” he admits quietly.

“Oh! Oh, Caleb, I will fix it, hold still. Don’t take super deep breaths.” Jester kneels down next to him, putting her palm over his heart and starting a healing spell. Molly looks away, toward the body, which Fjord is staring at with a dark look.

Fjord catches Molly looking, and his expression is clear: _did you know he could do that?_


	2. Fjord and Nott Bond over Ropes

bishopriecke said: … fjord and nott bonding while fjord teaches her sailors’ knots so she can try them in some traps. 

\--

“What’s that one?”

Fjord looks up from the cart. “Huh?”

“The vine to the rope, the um, the knot.” She’s blinking at it with those huge gold and only semi-creepy eyes of hers, hair matted to her forehead from the heavy rain.

“Sheet bend, so they’ll stay together,” Fjord pants. The wind picks up again, and he gives the knot a last yank before getting to his feet. “Let’s get in the cave and we can pick this up later?”

“Yes, of course.”

**

They practice knots to kill time while the storm passes. It turns out Nott uses a lot of clove hitches for her traps, not that she knew the name for them, but she can make one with her eyes closed and her hands behind her back. The others watch as Fjord demonstrates the rolling hitch, which makes some of her almost-but-not-quite net traps a lot easier to put together.

Jester, somewhat alarmingly, shows several different ways to tie people up that will leave minimal damage. She doesn’t know any of the names, but she rattles off the rope types that are best to use to prevent chafing.

“That’s actually very useful, for when we have to incapacitate guards,” Yasha compliments.

“Guards,” Beau agrees distractedly, blinking too much and too fast.


	3. Quick Make Out, the Guards are Coming

“Scheisse,” Caleb hisses, and leans against the door. “Are we –? The guards definitely heard something, we need to…” He looks to the small dresser, wondering if it would serve as an obstacle in front of the door. “This is the third floor, right?”

“Yes,” Molly confirms, unbuckling his belt and mussing his hair.

“I don’t have Feather Fall, can we use the bedsheets to… to… Mollymauk, why are you getting naked?”

“Why aren’t  _you_  getting naked?” Molly asks. “This inn is basically a bar with a whorehouse on top. Get your boots off, come on, throw the grimy coat somewhere, we don’t have all day here.”

Caleb feels the blood drain out of his face. “We can’t…”

“Do  _you_  want to get searched and let them discover we have the magistrate’s documents that just went missing?” Coat on the floor and shirt pushed off his shoulders, Molly checks himself in the grimy mirror and then looks to Caleb, reaching out and mussing his hair from the back. “C’mon, seriously, bed. The more intimate it looks like we’re being, the faster they’re going to get uncomfortable and shut the door again.”

“I-”

“Just do like me, get your trousers open and down a little, they’re not going to peek and make sure you’ve actually got your bits out.” Molly starts shooing him toward the bed, and Caleb makes an alarmed sort of grunt as he fumbles his trousers open and lets himself be pushed down short-ways across the mattress. “I’m not  _actually_  going to deflower you,” Molly promises.

Caleb makes a face. “There is a  _big assumption_  there that I would like to add-  _mmph!_ ” Caleb squirms under the stage kiss, tilting his head so Molly’s passionate fake-kisses move to his cheek instead of the outer corner of his mouth. Molly adapts, kissing down his neck as his hands slide up the back of Caleb’s shirt.

“Oh, darling,” Molly says, a little loudly if anyone were to ask Caleb. He tries to listen for boots out in the hallway, but he is bombarded by the sounds of fabric rustling, the feeling of calloused fingertips up his rib cage, and warm dry lips on his neck.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Caleb hisses, and is rewarded with a very rude pinch. “Ow!”

“I’m sorry, dearest, you just have me so worked up, I,” Molly plants his hands on Caleb’s chest and rolls his hips a centimeter or two above Caleb’s actual lap, undulating and tossing his head back with a moan just as the door’s kicked open.

“IN THE NAME OF THE CROWN,” a human guard bellows, “GET ON YOUR FEET, AND… ah, fer fuck’s sake.”

“You’re disturbing my customer,” Molly says haughtily.

The second guard seems less shy. “We’re searching for an outsider with documents belonging to-”

“I’d have noticed  _papers_  by now,” Molly interjects flatly. “Trust me, I’m very thorough in my work.” Noticing a couple other guests peeking around the guards, Molly tugs his shirt up just enough to cover his nipple and most of his tattoo. “No free shows, thank you.”

The first guard looks more exhausted with the situation than Caleb could have thought possible. “Have either of you seen a man running with a red folder today?”

“No.”

“N-no, sorry.”

“Then go about your business.” The door is slammed shut, and Molly holds his irritated face for a few minutes longer before looking down at Caleb and widening his eyes.

“Wow, you get  _really_  pink.”

Caleb stares at him balefully. “I was getting stared at by  _seven people_ ,” he hisses.

“It’s only your… hips to your nips,” Molly says, gesturing generally before hopping off of him and beginning to rearrange his clothes. “Gods. You really are the most unresponsive partner I’ve ever had.”

Caleb sputters.


	4. Fancy Widomauk Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted: Molly comes into a bit of extra money after some very good gambling and decides to take Caleb on a fancy date.

“None of this is necessary,” Caleb protests.

“You’re starting to catch on! Excellent.” Molly’s smile is lazy and self-satisfied as he gestures the wine menu to be displayed to him instead, and after some hemming and hawing he taps something in the red column and waves the waiter away.

“I don’t even know what to order,” Caleb says, leaning in to whisper as soon as they’re alone again. “You  _know_  my family never had money. We didn’t even eat at the little restaurant in town. What is  _kale?_ ” He jabs a finger at the paper menu that only has four main courses.

“It’s rich people lettuce.” Molly picks up a small slice of bread, dabbing it in the shallow plate of olive oil before holding it out for Caleb to bite. Caleb looks at Molly like he just asked him to make out on the table. Molly pouts and takes the bread back, eating it himself. “You never getting to go to these places is even  _more_  reason to do it,” Molly says, tail flicking lazily behind him and gaining the attention of an elf couple near the bar. “I don’t belong here either, remember.”

Caleb swallows, looking down at his lap, then at Molly. The tiefling looks patient with him, as  _always_ , and maybe Caleb should… just let himself be taken care of. It so often seems to be exactly what Molly wants, and if Caleb could just take the stick out of his ass, he’d probably  _enjoy_ being spoiled.

Hesitantly, he picks a piece of (free?) bread from the basket, dipping it in the olive oil as he saw Molly do. He takes a few bites, cheeks reddening as he sees Molly’s fanged smile in his peripheral vision.

“S’gut,” Caleb admits, smoothing his good shirt out with his free hand and sitting up a little straighter. “How… how much is this going to be, though? We could have used some of that money for magic supplies…”

“Oh, I’m taking you shopping  _after_  dinner.” Molly spots something behind Caleb and perks, leaning back. “Ah! Our wine.”


	5. Molly & Caleb Run Into Yeza

“We’ve got a shopping list,” Molly says, pulling out a scrap of paper. “Our alchemist isn’t the best speller, so I apologize if I pronounce some of this wrong, it’s - Caleb, what -”

Caleb’s wandered from Molly’s side already, looking at a huge metallic mortar and pestle.

“Is this real palladium?” Caleb asks the shopkeeper, pointing.

The old halfling nods and gestures with his cane. “Palladium plated,” he croaks. Molly spots a faint webbing of scars around his throat and shoulder that probably have something to do with it. So it’s not just the limp, then. “Sometimes you need something without any pores that…” He clears his throat again. “Doesn’t corrode, don’t tarnish…  _magical_  acids, of course, you can have trouble with those, but. I’m getting ahead of myself.” He looks to Molly. “What does your friend need?”

Molly squints at Nott’s handwriting. “Everything to make viper antitoxin other than the viper, we’ve, um, we’ve got the mountain viper. Several of them.”

“They just don’t sell,” Caleb mumbles to himself, wandering to the other side of the shop.

“Easily done,” the old man says, and begins collecting some vials onto the counter. “How’d you get so many without destroying their poison glands, if I may ask?”

“Sleep spell,” Molly says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “One nest, one spell, a quick slice behind each neck.”

The halfling’s eyes crinkle. “Our local rabbit population will thank you. What else can I find for you?”

Molly holds the paper up again. “Is there something called oil of slipperiness or am I misreading?”

“You’re reading what you want to read, Schatz.”

“Shut up, dear.” Molly turns to the halfling. “Ignore him.”

The halfling chuckles. “Good for adventurers. Lots of ways to trip up your foes… get that green jug down from that shelf for me, would you? I’ve got a ladder, but you know how old joints are.”

Molly gets on tiptoe, taking the jug down and setting it on the counter. He clears his throat. “Whatever yell…  _jellyfish_  you need for potions of water breathing. She’d like to make three or four vials, depending on how expensive it might be?”

“One jellyfish runs thirteen silver and makes about six potions, so I’d recommend you just buy a single jar and have her make six. The other ingredients aren’t difficult to find.”

Molly shrugs. “Sounds fair.” When he’s pointed to another shelf across the room, he walks over. “These are giant crab claws,” he reports cautiously.

“To the left of the crab claws, young man.”

“Ah.” Molly grabs what looks like the freshest preserved jellyfish and brings it over. “Last one, the ingredients, other than.. oh, she really crammed it in here at the bottom…” Molly holds the paper up closer. “Other than  _rock salt_  and… Caleb?”

Caleb wanders back over, squinting too. “Ingredients, other than rock salt and… finely ground…” He looks up apologetically to the shopkeeper, who waves them over to show him the paper. He pulls out some impressively thick glasses, scanning down the page and stopping suddenly. Molly and Caleb frown as the old man straightens and reads from the top again, reads again, and finally sets down the paper, staring at nothing.

“…sir?”

“Finely ground sand,” the man says. “Dust of disappearance. Yes.”

He sounds far away, his croak more exaggerated, and Molly and Caleb share a concerned look as the man begins to gather small paper packets, a couple vials, and an envelope of feathers. When he looks up again, he is wiping delicately at his eyes.

“Please,” he says quietly. “Tell your friend I hope she is well.”

“What-”

“And that her handwriting has improved.” He beams through the tears.


	6. Flirty Caleb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested: How about that moment when Caleb 'Charisma of 16' Widogast actually starts flirting back in full force and Mollymauk 'Charisma of 11' Tealeaf realizes he never planned this far ahead

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Caleb says apologetically to the clerk. “He can be a bit much.”

The little gnome woman nods in understanding, hopping off of her stool and disappearing down the racks to find the sewer plans they requested.

“Jester’s permission form worked,” Caleb murmurs under his breath, giving Molly a small smile. Molly, who is still reeling from the line a few moments ago, is squinting at him.

“ _Husband?_ ”

“Mollymauk, last week you fake-proposed to me in front of an entire ball. I am-”

“Excuse me for coming up with the  _perfect_  distraction for Beau.”

“-I am going to make your life a  _living hell_  for as long as it takes until I am satisfied that we are even.”

“You don’t take anything lightly, do you?”

“You  _knew_  I would be embarrassed. You  _knew_ I didn’t want people staring at me. Especially while I was… having to wear that…  _get-up._ ”

“I don’t think you’ve thought your revenge all the way through.”

“I can fake my way through social bullshit if I’m prepared - ah! You had some luck?” Caleb looks down as the gnome woman hops back onto her stool, holding some large scrolls bound in faded blue ribbon.

“They’re quite old,” the woman warns, untying the first one and beginning to lay it flat with several paper weights shaped like brooding chickens. “And that’s coming from  _me_ , dearies.”

“I’m sure there hasn’t been too much change to them since they were built,” Caleb says, bending over and resting his elbows on the desk to start memorizing. “Engel, quit staring at my backside and come take a look.”

Molly smiles tightly and joins him at the desk, ignoring the woman’s little grin and shake of her head. “I think the lady’s right,  _dearest_ , these say they were printed almost a hundred years ago.”

“Population boom since then,” the gnome chirps. “More people means city expansion, city expansion means new tunnels around the perimeter.” She gestures to the west side of the map. “Along here, and maybe to the southwest. It’s all residential, if memory serves.”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Caleb compliments.

“Don’t say that yet, dear, I’m afraid I can’t let you take this. You’ll have to copy it out here.”

“No need. Thank you so much for your help.” Caleb straightens, laying a hand on Molly’s waist. “What do you say, ready to get home?”

“Yes,” Molly says in a strangled voice, unused to this touchy flirty Caleb and finding himself unable to adapt.

Caleb shoots the woman a wink. “Have a fabulous evening.”


	7. Beau & Yasha Dress Shopping

“We can do this,” Beau mutters, pushing the door open and holding it for Yasha. A tiny bell jingles, and Beau scowls at it preemptively.

“It’s just buying things,” Yasha says quietly, sounding equally unsure. “We have enough gold. We don’t even have to barter.”

“As if a place this full of itself would  _barter_.” Beau rolls her eyes.

“Welcome to the Silken Serpent,” an attendant says pointedly, smiling with exclusively the lower half of her face. “Can I assist you in any way?”

“We’re looking clothes,” Yasha replies serenely. “For ourselves.”

Beau shoots her a look.

“Sometimes people buy clothes for other people,” Yasha informs her.

The attendant clears her throat and doesn’t quite smile again. “Any specific occasion?”

“Yeah, that gala thing that’s happening next week.” Beau jerks her thumb up the mountain, toward the magistrate’s house.

“ _Ah!_ ” The attendant snaps, eyes lighting up a little. “I’m so sorry, I understand now. Are you front of the house or back? The kitchen staff’s uniforms are handled by the tailor to the north of the docks district, and I believe all the wait staff get their attire from-”

“We’re  _guests_ ,” Beau says through gritted teeth.

“Guests. Guests. Yes, of course. I’m so sorry.” She doesn’t look sorry so much as trying to ascend to another plane of existence where such a thing might make sense. “Yes.” She blinks a few more times. “Guests.”

“So, um, dresses,” Yasha says helpfully.

“Yes. Guests. Yes.”

**

They’re directed to the racks, first, which Beau suspects is underselling them for the event but a desperate bid to get them out of the store as soon as possible. Unfortunately, nothing is close to fitting Yasha, and between Beau’s wide shoulders and firm biceps, nothing in the ‘autumn’ selections is going to go on without ripping.

“We can take your measurements,” the attendant says, “and you can select some fabrics and styles.”

“Just do black for me,” Yasha says, shrugging.

“That’s not…”

“Oh.”

**

At the platform surrounded by mirrors, the middle-aged elf has trouble reaching the upper parts of Yasha for her measurements. Beau makes a faux pas by asking the refreshments girl how much the drinks are. When they make it to the style books, it’s a relief.

“Okay,” Beau says, picking up a handful of pages and flipping them. “Give me…. that one.” She lands her finger on one page, pinning it down. “Wait.  _Shit_. Never mind, not all that cleavage.” She turns the page. Turns it again. “A slit… puffy arms… ugh. Come  _on_.”

“Perhaps something custom,” the old elf mumbles, and pulls out a fresh sheaf of paper. “Darla, why don’t you go back to the front, I’ll help these young ladies.”

The attendant bows  _very_  gratefully and disappears through the curtain to the sales floor.

“Now.” The elf clears his throat. “I believe I heard you two fine young women are attending the magistrate’s gala?”

“Yes,” Beau says tightly. “As  _guests_.”

“Of course, of course.” He looks her up and down in a quick assessment, drawing some broad lines on the paper and starting to sketch down her silhouette. “Now, you seem like someone who appreciates easy movement.”

Beau’s eyebrows fly up.

“Yes,” Yasha says, for her. “She does.”

“Mm.” The elf tilts his head this way and that, finally starting to draw the beginnings of what might be a gown. “And you certainly didn’t seem happy with the idea of exposed decolletage.” A moment passes. “That would be your chest, dear.”

“Oh. Then, no.”

“Mmhmm.” The quill continues to scratch over the paper. “And are you going to the event for business or for pleasure?”

“What?”

“Are you just going to mingle and have drinks, or will you be robbing the magistrate? Defacing his bloated estate in some way? I wouldn’t assume to guess the details, I was an adventurer myself so long ago…” He looks above the book, off into the middle distance for a moment. “Always did love a heist.” He turns to the two women and gives them a mischievous smile. “Nobody ever expects a gown to have  _pockets_ , you know.”

“…you can  _do_  that?”


	8. Beauyasha with Frumpkin

“Caleb,” Beau calls.

“Hmm? Was?”

“Is your cat always you?”

Caleb blinks slowly. “…explain.”

“Is it always doing something you told it to do. Is it always. Y’know.” Beau shrugs. “Obeying psychic cat orders.”

Caleb shakes his head. “If I am not looking through him, or telling him what to do in that moment, he just… does cat things.”

“So if I hang out with him and give him ear scratches, you don’t…” She mimes scratching behind her own ears.

“No, I do not get weird echo scratches, I will not know if you baby talk him, it is your secret.” Caleb laughs. “Go ahead.” He snaps his fingers, and Frumpkin hops off of the outcropping of rocks by the campfire to trot over to Beau.

She watches him coming, excited but unsure. “I was just asking, I didn’t mean  _now._ ”

“Go ahead,” Caleb says, already walking away. “I promised to go get firewood anyway. Frumpkin is no help with that.”

“Mrr,” Frumpkin says, tail curling up and forward as he butts his forehead against her bare arm. She laughs and leans back on her bedroll, holding a hand out for him to rub his face against.

“Hey, buddy.” She strokes along the top of his head, down his back, giggling when he starts to purr. “Awww. You’re pretty great.”

Frumpkin doesn’t take long before deciding that the most comfortable place to receive this attention is not the pebbled ground, but the bedroll, and then Beau’s lap, which is appropriately warm.

“You makin’ biscuits?” Beau asks, watching the cat knead into her thigh. “Are you a little baker?”

“What’s it doing?” Yasha whispers, and Beau jolts a little as she turns around, realizing that Yasha has been kneeling and watching this process for… gods know how long.

“H-hey,” Beau says, hands freezing for a moment. Frumpkin makes a complaining sound to remind her to continue petting him.

“Is he… pushing you?” Yasha asks.

“He’s making - he’s just kneading on me.” Beau remembers that Yasha doesn’t really have any experience with house cats. “They do that when they’re happy.”

“Oh.” Yasha frowns, watching it a little longer and then moving forward. “It is making that happy sound,” she remarks, backing up Beau’s statement.

“Heh, yeah.” Beau’s heartrate kicks up a little as Yasha sits on the ground next to her. Frumpkin makes a quiet ‘meep’ sound at her and walks across Beau to reach this new uncharted lap, circling it a few times before looking up at Yasha to politely remind her what she should be doing. “He, um, he’s waiting for you to pet him.”

“Oh! Oh.” Yasha’s hand dwarfs Frumpkin’s head, gently petting his side. It doesn’t take her long to realize Frumpkin keeps moving and tilting because he’s trying to direct her to just the right spots, and soon she’s scritching the spot under his chin, grinning as the purrs resume. “He seems… very happy.”

“Yeah.” Beau tries to think of something better to say, something cool or intriguing or smart, but Yasha’s sitting very close and she smells faintly of sweat, and… “Were you picking more flowers?”

“N-no,” Yasha says, sounding faintly guilty. “There weren’t any new ones. So I was just looking around.”

“It’s cool that you do,” Beau adds, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Like, you know. Botany. Horticulture. Um.” She looks to Frumpkin, who does not care at all if the conversation is flagging.

“I think he’s rubbing his fang on me.” Yasha tilts her head, trying to see as Frumpkin rubs his face against the side of her hand.

“It’s all love,” Beau assures her. “Cats are sort of to catch rats, but mostly they’re to, like, sit in your lap and bother you when you’re trying to do something else.”

Yasha’s mouth curves into a cautious smile. “And to be scarves,” she says. Beau nods. “He seems like he would be a great pillow, but I’d be afraid of… being too heavy, I guess.”

“Just get a bigger cat,” Beau suggests. “Um. Maybe a tiger or something.”

Yasha seems to be legitimately considering it. “It would need a lot of fresh meat,” she says slowly. “But I’m sure it could manage to get that itself.”

“If Caleb gets to have a little cat, you should definitely get to have a cat too.”

Yasha’s eyes go round in a sudden realization. “ _They could be friends_ ,” she whispers.

Beau frowns. “The tiger and Caleb?”

“The tiger and  _Frumpkin_ ,” Yasha says, looking down at Frumpkin’s squinty face as she strokes his head. “They… do you think they would be friends?”

Beau has no fucking idea if that would work. “They would _definitely_  be friends.”


	9. Fjord and Caleb are Kiri's Dads

“No, no, we have not bought that yet.” Caleb kneels down and tugs the candy away from Kiri’s grip.

“ _I looted it, I keep it,_ ” Kiri chirps in Jester’s voice, reaching to take it back, and Fjord shoots an apologetic look to the sweet shop owner.

“She’s, um, we’re babysitting,” he says gruffly.

The owner nods slowly and begins to tally up their total with shaking hands.

**

“Kiri, where are you-” Caleb curses under his breath, smacking Fjord’s bicep and then disappearing into the antique magic shop.

“We  _can’t afford this district_ ,” Fjord calls, turning on his heel and following the two inside. An old dwarf in robes is already hopping down from a chair, shouting at the bird who’s clambering onto the display in the window. Her eyes are locked on a broomstick leaned against a chest of drawers.

“I am so sorry,” Caleb apologizes, trying to find a human-sized way around the maze of book stacks so he can intercept her. “I just - I showed her a book about, um, magical items, I’m sure she thinks it’s-”

“It  _is_  a flying broomstick,” the dwarf squawks, just as Kiri climbs on. “It’s ex _pens_ -”

“ _Fly!_ ” Kiri says, in a little gnome child’s voice. Fjord watches the scene as the dwarf gestures frantically and Caleb tries to find a way to reach her that doesn’t knock anything over. “ _Go! Up!_ ”

“Stop trying to guess ze magic word and get  _down_ , young lady!”

“ _Auf!_ ” Kiri tries in Caleb’s voice. “ _Fahren! Oben! Aufwärts!”_

“Kiri, gods damn it!”


	10. Jester and Nott are Kiri's Moms

“The tower overlooked a beautiful glade,” Jester reads, using her free hand to gesture expansively in front of her. Kiri watches the movement, enthralled. “And the princess could see beyond the cold, windy mountains to the green fields beyond.”

“ _Climb down,_ ” Kiri suggests, head quirking.

“She couldn’t,” Jester says sadly, pointing to the picture. “It was too high and she was just a little half-elf. She couldn’t grip the stones, and she would have fallen to her  _death_.”

“ _Oh no!”_

“Oh no is  _right_. So she stayed, and every day the mean old hag brought her food and water, but didn’t let her go.” Jester turns the page and points to the new picture. “See here? The food looks gross.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Kiri agrees in her voice.

“Yeah. So the princess is sad, and she looks out the window eeevery day. Until one day! She sees a man in full plate armor, riding a horse right toward her tower!”

“ _Handsome?_ ”

“Very handsome,” Jester agrees solemnly.

“ _Well endowed?_ ” Kiri tilts her head again.

“No, sweetie, I’m not allowed to read you books like that anymore.”

**

“Okay, so while we’re under this spell, Kiri, we’re both  _gnomes_ , remember?”

Kiri nods, still looking at her illusion’s pink fleshy hands.

“So what do you have to sound like?”

Kiri looks up and thinks about it. “… _gnome_ ,” she finally says, sounding unsure.

“Right,” Nott says happily, and pats her head. “And how many gnomes’ voices should you use?”

“…”

“…”

“… _one_.”

“Yes!”


	11. Jester/Molly/Fjord: "Of Course You're Invited"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scrap of threesome smut that never got finished. Thanks, ep 26, for bumming me out.
> 
> A note: this! is! explicit!

“You said you two weren’t an item,” Fjord says, trying to give Jester a stern look while Molly manhandles him into the bedroom.

“We  _aren’t_ ,” Jester says patiently, locking the door behind them as Molly worms a hand under Fjord’s armor, under his shirt, fingers digging in a little to the muscle and paunch he finds there. “We just have sex for fun sometimes! It is not any kind of,  _romantic_ , or,”

“-exclusive,” Molly adds helpfully, nosing Fjord’s neck and breathing in his scent.

“Yes, thank you, Molly, that’s the really important one.” Jester beams and hops onto the bed, unlacing her boots. “So when you asked me to please stop flirting with you when I wasn’t  _available_ , and to ask  _Molly_  to stop, I realized that you were confused, so I told Molly-”

“-best words I’ve heard all week,” Molly adds, warm and hot against Fjord’s ear.

“-and so he said we should come up and clarify for you, and I said, ‘ _Molly, does clarifying mean having sex with him?’_ , and Molly said-”

“-’ _Gods, I sure hope so,_ ’-”

“-and so now we are here, and you understand now!” Jester smiles brightly as she tugs her boots off, kicking her feet out at the edge of the bed. Fjord stares at her with a frozen sort of expression because he can feel Molly’s hands starting to work on the straps on the side of his leathers. Jester is just beaming at him, contented in the silence of the moment, but Molly, two-glasses of expensive wine on his breath Molly, is the one to stop with a hand on Fjord’s hip and lean into his line of vision.

“We don’t  _have_  to have a threesome,” the tiefling points out. “We just thought it would be a nice way to cap off the day.”

“I don’t-” Fjord says, lifting his arms up to gesture and realizing his vambraces aren’t on them anymore. When did that fucking happen? “There’s a lot here I’m not accustomed to.”

“New is fine, as long as it’s willing and enthusiastic.” Molly shrugs and glances over to Jester, who also shrugs. “Neither of us care about new.”

“I’m not _new,_  I,” Fjord is desperate to get himself on some sort of footing here. He looks down and his greaves are on the floor too. Mollymauk is a menace. “I’ve bedded a woman, and all, it’s just that, this many people,”

“-and Molly’s not a woman,” Jester interrupts helpfully. “He’s a guy, and he’s got a dick.”

“I do,” Molly confesses.

“Can you two stop jokin’ around for one second and let me get my bearings here!”

Scolded, Jester tucks her chin in and quiets down. Molly’s tail goes a little limp and releases Fjord’s hip.

“I’m not upset, I’m just, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Okay,” Molly says, taking the lead before Jester can.

“And I’ll admit, I’m not sure what’s expected of a guy in… this situation.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Molly replies. Fjord can’t think of where to go from there, so Molly picks up the slack. “We were hoping to have some fun tonight. With you. In a manner that’s agreeable to all of us. And tomorrow we don’t worry about it or put names on things. Right, darling?”

“Right,” Jester says with an exaggerated nod.

“And if you don’t like it, we stop, and if you don’t know what to do, Jester and I can lay you down on the bed and ravish you and you can just tell us what you like best.”

“ _Oooooh_ ,” Jester says.

Fjord nods at Molly’s  _is-that-clear_  face, and then nods again, and then tries to think of what to do that isn’t nodding or more clearly admitting that he’s adrift.

“So,” Fjord says, and as he looks up he can see Molly’s eyes tracking over the tops of his cheekbones, definitely detecting the blush on the mottled green skin. “So, I think I understand now.”

“You’ll tell us if you don’t like something, right, Fjord?”

“Huh? Yeah, A’course.”

Molly’s tail is up and swishing again. “Okay. Then I’m going to start and I’ll listen for you to tell me how you like it.”

Fjord definitely intends to say something, but Molly’s pushing and nudging him until he’s turned and sitting on the very edge of the bed, where Jester perks up immediately and turns to face him.

“I’m super glad you’re here,” she confides quietly, and when Fjord is this close to see all the freckles on her cute little nose, and she’s smiling at him like that, it’s hard to remember what he was panicked about. He smiles back and she scoots closer, brushing her lips against his, and that. That is something he’s thought about many a time, and when she tucks back in to do it again, one hand rising up and mussing his hair, everything feels easy.

“Mmm!” Jester hums happily, as soon as Fjord’s hand brushes against her cheek. He cups her face, kissing her a little more firmly now and feeling the bed dip.

Fjord hums back and smiles as he feels her hand reach out and curl into the fabric of his shirt. When she tips sideways, he goes with her, feeling his cock twitch the second she throws her leg over his hip and squirms closer.

“Jester,” he breathes, and lets his hand roam to her shoulder, the top of her blouse. She giggles and flicks her tongue across his lips, urging him on as he finally palms her breast and groans in earnest.

“That feels great,” Jester murmurs into the warm air between them, and her eyes flutter shut as something distracts her. Fjord looks over her shoulder and sees Molly sprawled out on his stomach at the top of the bed, boots off and legs kicking airily behind him as he nibbles on the edge of of Jester’s tail spade.

Fjord suppresses the confused rush in his stomach, because honestly, he likes and wants them both, and if he can get over the initial panic he knows this could be an incredible night. “You talkin’ to him or me?” He teases softly, squeezing her breast.

“ _You_ , but.” Jester giggles and her tail flicks in time with it, temporarily out of Molly’s grasp before his eyes narrow and he captures it again. “You are both very good.” Her grin is lidded and mischievous as she maps out more of his chest. Fjord’s seen her eyeing him before, not sure if she liked the soft or the hard of him, but as she strokes and pets along the definition on his sides and the slight roundness of his stomach, he’s fairly fucking sure she likes both. He lets out a shuddering breath and starts working her bodice open, ducking in for another kiss.

“Jester, darling, are you being nice to our new friend?” Molly’s voice has a new, purring quality to it that’s doing something to Fjord. He curls his hand into the tight space between Jester’s half-opened bodice and her blouse, pulling her in tighter by the waist. She sighs with it and he growls back.

“Fjord,” she says, when they break for air, “Can you please take off all these things you are wearing, I really want to see you.”

“Sure,” he says, and starts unbuckling what Molly hasn’t already snuck off of him. He’s working his boots off when he hears a broken little moan to his left, and looking up sharply, he sees that Jester’s bodice is off now, her skirt untied and pooling around her generous hips - Molly is curled up behind her, mouthing at her ear and pinching her nipple under her shirt. “H-how the  _fuck_  do you expect me to do anything when you’re…”

Molly chuckles, unapologetic, and when is tongue flicks out to tease at the shell of Jester’s ear, it’s deep purple and  _forked_. Fjord curses under his breath, wrestling his boots and trousers off, nearly ripping his shirt before leaning across Jester, grabbing Molly by the jaw and kissing him roughly.

“Ooh, that’s hot,” Jester is saying, and Fjord feels her scoot back to the wall to give Fjord more room to bend over Molly, hand on his horn and keeping him in place so he can bite his way down to the tattoo on the tiefling’s neck.

“If this is you being mean,  _please_ keep doing it?” Molly sounds turned on, delighted, and something’s making the bed sheet shift and it takes a minute for Fjord to realize it’s Molly’s tail.

“You deserve worse for all the teasin’ you do,” Fjord growls. Molly’s undoubtedly coy response is cut off when Fjord lets his teeth dig in to the tattoo, just enough to leave gentle indentations, and Molly’s voice rises to a cry and he bends his head further away, showing his neck more and grabbing Fjord’s thigh in a demand for more.

“I’m so sorry,” Molly breathes finally, “I’ll never… never again… mm. Yes, very sorry.” As Fjord slips his hand into Molly’s open shirt, Molly takes this as a good time to cup Ford’s erection - but no, Molly’s fingernails are scratching Fjord’s scalp, that’s-

“ _Jester_ ,” Fjord moans, and when he feels her smaller hands start to tug hopefully at his smallclothes, he shudders and climbs on top of Molly, pinning him roughly and giving her a chance to get the last of his clothing down to his ankles. Molly hooks a leg around Fjord’s hip, making a contented sound when Fjord leans down and presses some of his weight to him.

“We should spoil her,” Molly breathes, and when his tongue flicks out again to wet his lips Fjord can’t help but roll his hips a little. “She’s been holding a torch for you for a while now. She’s waited long enough for you to show her a good time, don’t you think?”

The little squeak Jester makes at this suggestion is possibly the cutest, sexiest sound Fjord has ever heard. “He doesn’t  _have_  to,” she mumbles, and when her face flushes a deep blue, she bites her lip and her tiny fangs are just. They’re so.

“C’mere, darlin’.” Fjord cups her face again and kisses her properly, passionately, until she’s running out of air, and he pulls back and tugs on her lower lip with his teeth. She whines and licks the spot he just bit. Her tongue is… “Round?”

“Huh?” she asks, lust-hazy and eyes tracking over his body non-stop now that they’re apart.

“Your tongue’s… I mean, I never paid attention, I guess, but Molly’s is split and yours isn’t.”

Molly laughs behind Jester. “Different kinds of demon blood,” he explains, fingertips trailing a design up Jester’s leg and nudging her skirt up in the process. “Some of us have longer fangs. Some of us have different shaped horns.”

“You have the nice ridges on your cock,” Jester adds, looking over her shoulder and smiling warmly at the other tiefling.

“The. The what?”

“They don’t hurt,” Molly assures, with the patient tone of someone who’s had to say this before. “They’re nice. For ladies and gentleman both.” His hand is up to Jester’s ass now, cupping and kneading it and making her moan appreciatively.

“ _Super_  nice,” Jester corrects. “Also, some tieflings with boobies have, um, the really big…”

“Humans can have big nipples, too, though.” Molly is dotting kisses along her bare shoulder.

“Yeah, but  _really_  big.” She gestures to her own breast, drawing a very large circle in front of it, and Molly follows the action with his own hand, tracing his own circles and smiling wickedly as she melts into him.

“How big was that?” Molly asks against her neck. “Show me again, darling.”

Jester’s face is flushed dark blue as she pouts at Fjord. “He plays dirty,” she complains, not meaning it.

“Uh-huh,” Fjord says, unable to say much else. Molly is wrapped adoringly around Jester’s body, having shifted between her back and the wall, and as he massages her breasts Fjord can’t help but stare for a few seconds. Her thighs are pressing together intermittently as she shifts, and he shifts onto his knees, bending down and kissing her knee. She gives a contented little sigh, so he kisses higher, finally gathering the material of her skirt up and curling his fingers into the fabric of her smallclothes. “Can I…”

“Uh-huh,” Jester whines, and plants her feet on the mattress so she can lift her hips up. Fjord can feel his cock dragging pre-cum on the sheets as he tugs everything off that he can reach, leaving her in the loose blouse that Molly’s hand is under again. “Umm,” Jester says, and then  _louder_ , more needfully. Fjord can smell her scent and it’s starting to drive him a little crazy; he takes a deep breath and presses up to her front, palming her other breast and nudging his fingertips between her thighs.

“Can I-”

“ _Fjord_ ,” Jester admonishes, like she’s exasperated that he’s still asking.

He laughs. “Okay, okay, I,” his breath catches as his fingertips reach the wet softness of her opening, and she’s  _dripping_ , and it - something about her smells different, feels a little different, but he can’t stop to ask more race questions because her needy whine is right in his ear and his cock  _could not be harder_  right now. He hears Molly make a sympathetic sound as Fjord presses two fingers in, making her body arch and tense for a moment. She’s not too tight, she’s just  _responsive,_ and Fjord can’t help but press his mouth to her neck in a reassuring kiss. “Alright?” he pants.

She wraps her hand around his, shakily pulling him further inside her until he’s as deep as he can reach. Fjord can feel her body squeezing around him, and the flutter of muscles is different in a way he can’t quite figure out. “S’good,” she says. Molly’s hiked her blouse up, exposing deep blue little peaks that have been teased and tugged - Fjord’s mouth waters a little and he crouches down, capturing a nipple and sucking as he starts to stroke her inner walls.


	12. Caduceus Gets Introduced to Smut

An anon asked for Caduceus's first time in the smut shop.

Not his  _first time_ , but - you know what I mean.

* * *

 

“Oh, this is-” Caduceus takes a moment, tilting his head and delicately laying the book down on one of the shop’s many mismatched side tables.

Beau snorts. “If you want to put it back, we-”

Rather than setting it down to get  _rid_ of it, Caduceus is gently unfolding a long piece of paper that is folded within the book - an illustration. “ _Ah_ ,” Caduceus says, as if the drawing has clarified something vital.

Caleb glances at the others in the shop, cheeks tinged red. “Speaking from personal experience, you can’t read too much before someone approaches you and reminds you to buy it.”

“Yeah, but we  _brought_  him here to-” Nott gestures vaguely. “You know, just figure out what it  _is_.”

Caduceus has gestured Jester over, pointing to some specific detail. “People do this?”

Jester leans in unashamedly and squints. “Balls usually aren’t that big,” she says dismissively.

“Well, yes, I figured that was artistic license, I meant…” He grins, calm as always, and gestures to something else in the picture.

“Oh! Yeah, guys and girls, whoever. That’s for anybody.”

“Hunh.” Caduceus makes the same ‘well isn’t that interesting’ nod he did when he saw his first dragonborn down at the pub this morning. He folds the illustration back up, flips a few pages, and unfolds a second one. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, getting more expressive this time. “That looks fun!”

Caleb shares a look with Beau.

“Didn’t expect him to roll with it so easily?” Beau asks, tone flat.

“I guess not, no,” Caleb admits.

“Me either.” Beau turns back to the large figure gesturing something out with Jester, who’s becoming more excited. “Good for him, I guess.”

“And this feels good, to the recipient?” Cadueceus is gesturing to the new illustration, not bothering to keep his voice down, and Jester is bouncing on her toes.

“Apparently, yeah, it’s really great. As long as you’re not too self-conscious, I guess?”

Caduceus makes another ‘huh’ face. “I’ll have to try that sometime,” he remarks, and Caleb tries not to stare.

 


	13. Dead People Tea, PLUS A Werewolf in the Party

Anon asked for people going to get regular tea, only to discover they prefer Caduceus's now.

 

* * *

 

Caleb sets the cup down and makes an annoyed face. “I used to  _like_  this,” he complains bitterly.

Jester sighs and uses the small tongs provided at the table to put another sugar cube into her cup. “I think we’ve been spoiled.”

Beau, who was the only one to order water, shrugs. “Are your old favorites really paling in compari-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Caleb and Jester say unison.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Blu asked for someone getting by a werewolf, and everyone taking care of that member.

* * *

 “Hrmph.”

Caleb shoots a look to Caduceus. “Does your, um, ‘talking to animals’ ability extend to… people transformed into beasts?”

“That’s just your general ‘trying to decide if I like it’ sound, I think.” Caduceus smiles and relaxes at the door of the cabin, leaning against the wall. “Sit down, Caleb. I think your body language might be coming off as a little tense.”

“Can’t imagine why that might be,” Fjord says with fake sweetness, holding very still with his eyes locked on the beast.

“Ja, thank you, Fjord.“ Caleb retreats toward the chair in the corner but is not quite brave enough to sit down in it yet. He looks back to the fur sticking up here and there from the tangle of blankets and pillows salvaged from the bunk beds. “Make a sound that means you’ve decided you like it,” he mumbles hopefully.

The furred shape in the corner makes another investigative ‘whumph’ sound and gets itself tangled in one of the sheets, but does not otherwise respond.

Fjord sighs and looks to the window. “When’re the others comin’ back with that druid? It’s been forever.”

“We’re fine for now,” Caduceus soothes. His expression perks up when the lump stops and seems to settle, and when Caduceus sits down in the middle of the wooden floor, just a little bit closer than the others have been, a nose sticks out but seems to decide that there’s no threat. “Hungry?” Caduceus asks. “Beau gave me some of her pocket bacon before she left.” He rummages around in his robes, breaking some pieces off and tossing them toward the suddenly very interested werewolf.

“Whhrm,” Jester rumbles, and comes out halfway from her fort to eat the bacon. Caleb, now able to get a better look at her, sees that she still has muted streaks of blue among the otherwise black and charcoal fur.

“You sure you want her thinkin’ about food while we’re here?” Fjord asks, watching as Jester pulls her lips back to expose extremely sharp teeth.

“She seems perfectly happy with the bacon.” Caduceus shrugs. “Besides, it’s a nice getting-to-know-you gift.”

“Whrr,” Jester says, and sits back on her haunches a moment while she stares Caduceus down and then moves on to staring at Caleb. Her eyes are an alien yellow with only beastly intelligence behind them. Caleb shivers. When her gaze moves on to Fjord, it narrows, and she moves in.

"Fuck,” Fjord says, making an aborted move toward the door.

“She’s just curious,” Caduceus says.

“I  _know_  that look,” Fjord explains, and is about to say more before he’s knocked onto his back and crushed under the weight of a two hundred pound beast. “Shit.  _Shit_  she’s gonna smother me.”

Jester’s tail wags and she nuzzles against Fjord’s face, getting comfortable on her new bed.

 

 

 

 


	14. Through The Stomach (Jester/Caduceus fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For rathernoon on tumblr <3

(for [@rathernoon](https://tmblr.co/mnbhvGaKcnkvAcrfhX3ZFZQ))

“It’s so  _good_ ,” Jester enthuses, scooting a little further off of her bench to cradle the bowl on the table.

“Thanks,” Caduceus says, a little absentmindedly. The others on the ship have only just finished filtering out of the tiny cluttered space he has to prepare food in, and he’s got to take this opportunity to settle his nerves and start cleaning up.

“No,” Jester says sharply, and her tone makes Caduceus turn around to give her his full attention this time. “It’s.  _So. Good._ ”

She locks eyes with him, and he obediently looks back at her, blinking, as she points at the soup with one finger and then the other.

“You are a  _reeally_  good cook.”

“Oh.” Surprised by the intensity of her statement, Caduceus takes a moment, finally breaking out into a brief smile. She smiles back, all fangs and freckled blue cheeks rising up to her bright eyes, and something in Caduceus’s stomach flips out of sync with the roll of the ship.

**

Jester likes sweets. Caduceus knew this from off-hand comments from the rest of the Nein, but when he scraps together some little fry-pan cakes with the sweet fruits they found on the island, Jester nearly tips over as she moans with her first bite. Her pointed ears raise a little, and her tail curls into a pleasant spiral. Caduceus catches himself looking at it longer than he would expect to, at the endearing sign of pleasure.

“These’re just what I needed,” Beau says around a mouthful, and picks the crumbs off the plate to begin eating those too.

“Sorry they’re crumbling so much,” Caduceus intones with a regretful smile. “There wasn’t quite as much honey on the ship for the batch I started, and...”

“No apologizing,” Nott interrupts, and Caleb grunts in assent. “These are great. You’re a  _great_  teammate. I wish they had these back on the mainland somewhere, I’d eat them all the time.”

Yasha sits up a little straighter. “Do you think, if we picked some fruit and put it in the haversack..?”

Jester lights up and turns to Yasha, putting a hand on her forearm. “ _Yes!_ ” she shouts. “Yes, we could have these again!”

“I don’t think stuff in the haversack stays good  _indefinitely_ ,” Fjord warns with a look of caution.

“I know, I know, but still.” Jester flaps her hand at the comment, waving it away. Something about these mannerisms draw Caduceus’s attention more than they used to. And something about her happiness from his food motivates him more than the others, no matter who’s more vocal. Caduceus begins to ruminate over this. “I’ll buy you honey when we sail back, Caduceus, okay?” Jester smiles at him and he loses his train of thought, nodding along.

“Sounds nice,” he intones agreeably.

“They usually sell it at sweet shops, and I’m always going to those anyway, so it’s  _no problem._ ” She’s beaming. “Have you ever been to a sweet shop before, Caduceus?”

He thinks back. “I’d usually just go to the general store, and they’d have a few jars of... this and that.”

“Well, I can show you around, point out the  _really good_  stuff. Like, you definitely shouldn’t buy too many peppermint things your first time, because, well, some people don’t like them at  _all_. Same with licorice! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the right stuff.”

“I don’t think he was worried,” Caleb teases mildly.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Caduceus says, and if he’s a little more animated than he’s been lately, a little more... energetic, it doesn’t feel like something he needs to worry about or examine too deeply.


	15. Molly convincing Caleb to bathe

“I’m exhausted.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s mostly the minotaur’s,” Caleb argues, but sees no change in Mollymauk’s expression. “Really. I’m more winded from the magic than anything else. I’ll clean up in the morning.”

And he would - no matter what Jester liked to say, Caleb only got completely unpresentable about five days into traveling, and by then he was in fine company. With a town this nice, a bath would be easy to find and not too outrageous in cost. He looked forward to it, Caleb thought to himself, turning away from Molly’s irritated face and laying himself delicately on the creaking inn bed. The only thing he looked forward to more was the sleep he was about to fall into, heavy and undeniable, on him in seconds.

**

When Mollymauk’s hand shakes him awake, Caleb takes immediate stock: no feelings of magic. Nobody else in the room. He’s slept several hours, certainly past dinner.

“Caleb, there’s-“ Mollymauk is looking to the door, not afraid but certainly concerned.

“Was ist los?” Caleb draws the back of his hand across his mouth, stifling embarrassment when he finds a dried line of drool. “What… what is it?”

“I need your help deciding if we should steal something,” Molly admits.

This was not on the list of things Caleb would have guessed. “What are you talking about? Steal?”

“Well, someone left it.” Molly seesaws his hand, eyes now sidelong on Caleb. “And it’s, I mean, I don’t know who it belongs to or how long before they notice it’s gone and they maybe think to come back here for it-“

“What _is_ it?”

Mollymauk gives him a tiny, toothy, very secret grin. “I’m pretty sure it’s a spellbook,” he singsongs quietly, and Caleb feels himself pushing off the mattress, almost brushing cheeks against Molly’s. “I mean, I’m no expert, but it _feels_  magic, and the diagrams inside certainly look like the ones you draw.”

Caleb looks around the floor for his boots before realizing he never bothered to take them off. “Where did you see this?”

“Down the hall. Come on, I bet it’s still there.”

Caleb’s mind is full as he follows the tiefling out the door. _Is_  it still there? _Is_  it what Molly says? A good wizard may have a spell memorized for finding lost objects, but if Caleb can copy the pages before-

“Here,” Molly hisses, and pushes Caleb into a room and follows him in, shutting the door behind them before Caleb can open his mouth to protest.

The candles are lit, but Caleb still circles the room twice, looking at the floor, the small table by the wash basin and bucket, the window sill, and the caninet before looking back to Molly. “Where was it?” He whispers, ready to believe that they must have just come too late.

“It was definitely this room,” Molly assures him, while simultaneously locking the door.


	16. Mama Nott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Nott's protective instincts not just being with Caleb, but other members of the m9.

Caleb’s shoulder is injured, and so as they walk through the high-reeded marsh, Nott rides on Beau’s shoulders instead. As soon as Beau’s certain that Nott isn’t going to accidentally slash her with her claws when trying to grab for purchase, she’s not worried, and they work together to bend back tree branches and leggy bushes for the others as they travel.

When they sit to rest before their last push east, Nott insists on digging out Beau’s comb, taking her hair down and going over it in careful strokes to set it right before braiding it back up.

“I was leaning forward against the knot the whole time,” Nott tells her firmly, “I should fix it if it’s my fault, shouldn’t I?”

Beau allows it, blustering at first, and nobody comments on how she seems to enjoy the little grooming session.

**

“Leave him alone,” Nott snaps sharply, and hops onto her tip-toes to grab Caduceus’s hand and pull him away from the urchin.

“He was just talking to me,” Caduceus says in a low tone, trying to reassure her as he walks alongside her with a bent back. When she finally releases his hand, she’s scowling a little.

“You need to be less trusting in cities.”

“He was only…” Caduceus takes a moment to do the math, of how old a human would be to be that size. “Five, maybe?”

“They get the young one to chat with you so the older ones can grab your coin purse,” Nott tells him. “You can be as perceptive as you like, but his older friends probably tell him it’s all a game, so he’s got no guilt to hide from you in the first place.”

Caduceus ponders this and frowns. “You’re very knowledgeable,” he says finally.

“Yes, well, stay close to me. I’ll keep you safe.”


	17. Nott Gives the Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for Nott giving Caleb's boyfriend/girlfriend 'the talk'.

Nott squints at Molly across from the table.

Molly, who had hoped this had something to do with their current mission, drums his fingers next to his glass of cheap inn wine and waits her out. He’s sure, absolutely sure, that she has a speech lined up.

“If,” she says in a cutting voice, raising a tiny green finger.

“If,” he encourages, lifting his brows mildly.

“If you ever,” she adds, leaning forward a little.

“Ever,” Molly echoes, wondering if he can turn this into some kind of game with points so he can get himself through it.

“Ever,” Nott says again. It seems to be the end of that sentence. She cuts her hand through the air. “I’ll know.”

“You will,” Molly agrees reasonably.

“And I’ll get you when you’re asleep.”

“You would.”

“But, welcome.”

“Cheers.”


	18. Fjord learns about Caduceus and Jester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for something "fluffy or funny with Clavorre".

Caduceus rinses the small mortar and pestle in the stream, drying them with his sleeve and puling out a few envelopes from his pack. Dried lavender, rose hips, and what little sandalwood he can afford… Fjord, who’s bathing downstream, watches him for a few moments.

“Another tea?” he asks, making conversation.

“Just a sachet,” Caduceus says, humming, and begins tipping careful amounts of each envelope into the mortar. He stirs it with his finger a few times before lifting it up to his nose and sniffing. Very pleasant, but not as sweet as it could be. He has some rose petals from a few days ago, they could work…

“Is that… a cleric thing?”

 _Sort of_ , Caduceus thinks to himself, smiling down at the mixture. “It’s just a small bag with things that smell pleasant.”

“Like fancy people have in their house?”

“I guess I wouldn’t know.” Caduceus watches the dried petals crumble in his careful fingers, dropping down into the mortar and joining the mix. That should be perfect. “I just make them for Jester. She puts them under her pillow.”

There’s an odd silence, but Caduceus has learned to wait out these moments, aware that he sometimes words things oddly, or leaves out something someone wants to know. If Fjord wants to know how to make one himself, or know which scents last longest, he will ask in time. “Oh,” Fjord says, finally.

The stream tumbles along beside Caduceus, making a sort of rhythm to his work as he digs out and unfolds the small scrap of ornately embroidered fabric he bought in town. He has learned that fabric shops have incredibly beautiful, expensive things to offer, but when pieces are cut and small scraps are left, they are small enough to be sold for mere coppers. All he needs is about four square inches, and so this small treasure will have beautifully stitched white birds across the front and back, among his hidden stitches.

“Looks pretty fancy,” Fjord says, sounding uncertain.

Caduceus nods absently as he begins stitching it inside-out, large hands careful on the tiny square. “I made the last one with a ribbon closure, and it seemed to make her very happy. So I’ve started thinking about visual details, like that, along with what’s inside them.”

More silence. “You, uh, you make those for anybody else? Beau? Or…?”

Caduceus frowns. “Do you think I should?” He looks up from his work, toward where Fjord is standing hip deep in the water. “I wouldn’t want them to misunderstand the gift.”

“Misunderstand?”

“It’s a bit romantic, isn’t it? Something under her pillow?” Caduceus watches something strange pass over Fjord’s face, and scratches his jaw. “What’s wrong?”


End file.
